


King Arthur & Sir Lancelot

by MALLR4TS



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: A Happy Ending, Beechers Hope, Blackwater, Crying, Grave, Letters, Lots of tears, Plot Twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25654813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MALLR4TS/pseuds/MALLR4TS
Summary: Jack Marston receives a letter from Arthur Morgan, a man who died a very long time ago. Is he alive? Or is this all a trick?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 57





	King Arthur & Sir Lancelot

**Author's Note:**

> I cried writing this so sorry if you do too. I'm not used to writing non-smutty works so sorry if this feels a bit off.  
> Also, this is now canon, Rockstar said so :) 
> 
> Twitter and Tumblr are @MALLR4TS

Jack Marston, son of a famous gunslinger and outlaw. Everybody in town knows him, though Jack barely knows anyone.

Jack's in Blackwater, having to pop into town to grab a few supplies for the ranch. He hates going there, knowing everyone's looking at him. Wouldn't you? 

He knows most people are staring at him in hopes that he doesn't case any trouble, though he never has. He's had a few people make the passive aggressive comment on how they're 'glad you didnt turn out to be an outlaw like your father.'  
Jack tries his best to ignore them, though he kills them slowly in his mind. 

Jacks ready to head on back to the ranch, mounting his nag as he begins trotting off.

"Mister Marston!" Someone calls out. 

Jack looks around. His attention is drawn to the Post Office clerk who's giving him a wave. Jack trots over and dismounts, confusion all over his face.  
Jack never recieves mail, he didn't even have anyone to write to. 

"This came for you," the clerks says as he passes Jack the letter.

"Thank you, sir," Jack responds as he takes it. He walks back over to his nag, opening up the letter to read what's inside.

_Jack Marston,  
You may not remember me, and I won't be offended if you don't. You were very young when I last saw you. I'm writing in hopes that... well, I'm not really sure. I know you're alive and well, but I guess I just want to see it for myself.  
I live west of Tumbleweed now, in a small humble cabin on top of a steep hill, overlooking a beautiful lake. I hope you will at least write back to me. I want to know you're alright.  
I understand that you must be confused recieveing this letter, but I will explain all to you if you choose to respond. I apologise for this letter being so short. I really do not know what to write, I just need to know you're well.  
Sincerely yours,  
Arthur Morgan_

Arthur Morgan? His fathers brother? The man that died many years ago when Jack was just a boy? 

Either this was a sick joke, or bait from the Bureau. 

Jack had been living on his parents ranch ever since their passing, even after the death of Agent Ross.  
Jack was careful never to give his name out to any of those people he came across when on his search for Ross, and that part of his past had never caught up to him. 

But maybe it had now? 

Maybe one of those people had paid a bit too much attention to Jack's appearance, giving whatever information they could away when someone came knocking to ask who had tracked down Ross.  
Jacks uncle was dead, he had passed a long time ago. Jack had visited his grave many times alongside his father and mother, so how could his uncle be writing to him? 

What kind of sick joke was this? It must be bait from the Bureau? 

Jack huffed, re-reading the letter. He's boiling, enraged that someone would pull such a twisted prank on him. 

Jack mounts his nag, clicking his tongue as she begins to ride off back to the ranch. His whole journey is spent pondering who would do this. His brows remain furrowed, lips pouting. A stranger rides past and makes a comment, saying how Jack looks like he's just bit into a lemon. Jack ignores him. 

He arrives back at the ranch, leading his nag into her pen. Jack's puts his evening chores on hold. He almost tears the house apart, looking for that box his father kept, full of memories.  
Jack eventually finds it under his parents bed, ignoring the mess he's made. He sits on the floor, opening the box and digging through it, eager to find what he's looking for. 

Eventually, he finds it. 

Jack pulls out a stack of letters that Arthur once sent to John. He's read them before, most of them being full of anger from when his father left his mother and him for a year.  
Jack takes the strangers letter out from his satchel, unfolding it aggressively and placing it on the floor. Jack then places one of his uncles letters next to the strangers and begins comparing. 

It's spot on. Perfect. Far too perfect.  
If this is a prank, someone had spent a lot of time on it. 

The strangers handwriting is a perfect match to Arthurs. Everything was in place. The cursive style, the way his I's look like J's, the long flicks in capital letters. It's all there.  
Jack sits back on his knees, staring at the ceiling. What is he to do? How can Arthur be alive? 

Jack thinks back on everything he can remember about his uncle. He specifically remembers Charles telling them how he had found Arthurs body and buried him up on that mountain. He remembers his father being ordered by Arthur to push on, letting Arthur hold those damned men back. He remembers his father telling everyone that Arthur Morgan was dead. 

So what was this? This... letter from beyond the grave? 

Jack compares a couple more of Arthurs old letters but they only make him believe that this strangers letter is real. Is must be him, but how?  
Jack packs everything away, shaming himself for making such a mess earlier as he now had to clear all that up. He does so, followed by his evening chores and settling down for the night. 

Jack goes to bed early but all he does is lie there. His eyes are wide open, gorming at the ceiling as he plays out all his cards in his head.  
What is he to do with the ranch? He could be gone for weeks, maybe forever? And if this is all a trap, then thats it. He'll die at 20. Jack shrugs the thought of death off, he has very few friends, no family left, or at least he thought. 

He puts a plan together and finally forces himself to sleep, though he wakes up many times throughout the night. 

It's early morning. Jack awakens the second the suns rays drift into his window. He's quick to get up, rushing his morning chores and skipping breakfast.  
He mounts his nag, barely giving her enough time to wake up as he pushes her on. Down south he goes, finding his way to Mcfarland Ranch. Bonnies already awake, no surprise. Jack greets her and the two of them talk a little while. He eventually explains the situation to her, even showing her the comparison between the two letters. Bonnie agrees that this strangers letter is far too alike but warns him that it's definitely a trap. Jack wants to agree but something in the back of his mind is nagging that it's not. 

"I have no family left," he sighs. "I need to see this person for myself. I need to know who is tryna mess with me," Jack explains. 

Bonnie understands. She agrees to watch his ranch whilst he's gone. He thanks her far too many times, and eventually Bonnies pushing him to leave. 

"Well, go on then. Or are you gonna thank me another ten times?" she jokes. 

Jack leaves. He's already got his bags packed, knowing Bonnie was going to say yes. How could she turn down the son of her former friend? 

Off he goes, heading as far west as he can go. It takes Jack a week to reach where the letter told him to go, fast past Tumbleweed, beyond the borders of where he knows.  
His nag is exhausted, practically passing out as they finally reach the little cabin that the letter told him about. The area is just as described; a humble-looking shack on top of a steep hill, overlooking a lake.  
If Arthur really is somehow here then Jack can understand why, the scenery is gorgeous. 

Jack hitches his nag outside, feeding her whatever snacks he had left before he walks up onto the porch. The curtains are drawn which only makes Jack feel even worse. Was he about to meet his fate?  
Jacks hand is on his gun, finger over the trigger, ready to draw if this is a trap. He's more than nervous, he feels physically sick; his emotions are split right down the middle, feeling sick that this could be a trap, and feeling sick at the idea that this really could be Arthur Morgan. 

Jack knocks on the door. 

He takes a step back, his hand wrapped around his holstered gun, chest puffed out, breathing deeply. Jack can hear movement, he can hear someone taking their time to answer the door. 

Finally, the door slowly opens, just a couple of inches. Jack sees someone peering out at him but it's too dark inside to see who the stranger is. The two of them stare at each other for a moment, Jack doesn't move his hand away from his gun. 

"...Mister Morgan?" Jack asks. 

He can hear the stranger let out a deep exhale, their face moving closer to the door so they can eye him up and down. 

"Marston?" They ask. His voice is deep and familiar. If this was a trap, it was far too well planned. 

"Yes?" Jack responds. 

"...John?" They ask. 

"No, sir. Jack," he answers. 

Theres a short pause. "I know John's passed but, you..." the stranger trails off, Jack can hear the lump in their throat, the one you get when you're trying not to cry. "You look just like him," they say. 

The door finally opens, a lot faster this time. Out steps an elderly man, and straight away Jack knows who it is. 

Jacks hand instantly moves away from his gun, his mouth dropping a little. Jack's lost for words. It's real, it's all real - the letter and the man standing before him. 

There stands Arthur, age has barely changed his appearance. His hair is grey and his smile is full. He still dresses like an outlaw, though a bit cozier. Theres a gun on his hip and warmth in his heart.  
The two of them stand there, their eyes wandering over each other, taking it all in. 

"Sir... I-" 

Arthur cuts him off. "Sir?" he laughs. "What you callin' me sir for, boy?" 

"I... I don't know. I don't know what to say," Jack honestly replies.

"Neither do I," Arthur shrugs.

Theres silence again before Arthur asks "You wanna come inside for a coffee?"  
Jack's quick to accept, following old Arthur into his cabin. 

Arthurs cabin is similar to his parents home, well furnished and not too decorated. Theres a few extra furs decorating the walls, but nothing too fancy. The one thing that catches Jacks's attention the most is a small wooden stag statue on top of his mantlepiece. Jack picks it up without thinking. He feels something inside of him, something he's not felt in a long time.  
He feels sad, but also... happy? He remembers a time when he was little, he remembers his father and uncle's gang. Jack remembers the distantly familiar people that helped care for him, the blood and bodies that he saw on the daily, the stress and anger that surrounded everyone before they all split.

"Out of everything that could have caught your attention, that does?" Arthur asks. His voice startles Jack, making him jump as he quickly places the statue back down. 

"What you mean?" Jack asks. He has another look around, noticing more oddities. There's a framed drawing of a nude woman on his wall, a well-crafted raccoon hat, a familiar framed map with lots of annotations and drawings on it. "Oh," Jack responds. 

Arthur laughs, shaking his head. He hands Jack his cup of coffee before sitting down. He gestures Jack to sit on the only chair in his cabin, Arthur sitting on his bed. It was clear Arthur lived alone, the one-man bed, the single chair placed at his tiny table. His cabin was no bigger than his parent's lounge.

"So, you came," Arthur states before having a sip of his coffee.

"I did. Here I am," Jack replies, still unsure how to feel about everything. 

"I bet you got a lot on your mind." 

"Yes... and no," Jack's eyes trail to the floor. "I still ain't sure what to make of all this." 

"I'm not surprised, I wouldn't either," Arthur sighs. "You think your uncles been dead for years and out of the blue, you get this random letter stating he's alive. I'd be... well, I'd be a lot of different things if I was in your position." 

"Like what?" Jack asks.

"Afraid and angry comes first to mind," Arthur responds. Jack gives him a look that urges him to continue. "I guess I'd be angry cause I lied to you, I lied to everyone. And afraid... well, that speaks for itself." 

"I guess I am," Jack had a drink. "If I'm honest, I don't remember you much. No offense." 

Arthur laughs, not at all offended. "You were just a boy when I disappeared, 4 if I remember rightly."

"Yes sir- I mean... uncle?" Jack stutters.

"You can just call me Arthur if that helps." 

"Okay. Yes, Arthur," Jack corrects himself. "I remember a few things, a lot my father explained as I got older, about Dutch turnin' and all that. But I remember you bein' ill a lot? Sometimes you wouldn't let me near you. I never remember even huggin' you." 

"Yeah," Arthur nods. "Tuberculosis." 

"Well, not to sound blunt but, where is it? You don't look ill?" 

"It's amazing what a little cough and rubbing your eyes red every morning can do for ya," Arthur chuckles.

"So it was all fake? All of it?" Jack asks.

"Yes... and no." 

Jack pauses, staring at him, awaiting answers. Arthur lets out a long sigh, shaking his head and briefly staring at the floor. 

"I had to leave, and so did John. I knew John had a chance, I knew John wasn't as wanted and could hopefully shake it all off if he laid low for a while. I didn't have that chance, I was almost as wanted as Dutch. There was no survivin' for me." Arthur pauses for a moment, trying to find the right way to explain everything.  
"My original plan was to fake my death usin' that tuberculosis excuse. That didn't go too well, not with Micah ruinin' it and all. I stuck with it though, all the way till the end. Micah and I fort after I said goodbye to John and I just... well, I just played dead," Arthur shrugged, smiling. 

"But Charles said he buried you?"

"He almost did," Arthur laughed. "Charles found me the following morning. I stayed in that same place, had a nap actually, I was tired after Micah had his final blow at me. Charles found me, thinking I was dead. I woke up just as Charles picked me up over his shoulder. I screamed, he screamed, then he dropped me," Arthur laughed again, Jack laughing as well.  
"I told Charles everything after he got over the shock. He offered to help me. The grave was his idea, so we followed through with it. Well, he did, I ran the second I could. I found my way out here, picked this nice spot and slowly built this cabin." Arthur looks around at his handy work before continuing.  
"I still speak to Charles, you know. He's visited me a few times. My plan was to go live with him in Canada if you weren't to show up." 

"How? Wouldn't your name be recognized?" 

"Tacitus Kilgore," Arthur stated.

"Huh?" 

"It's a name the gang used to go by. I use it when Charles writes to me, and on the odd occasions that I have to go into town. I was actually writing to him before you showed up," Arthur nods to the half-written letter on the desk that Jacks sat at. 

"And no ones ever recognized that?" 

"Well if they have, no ones ever bothered with it."

"And what about pa? If Charles knows you're alive then why didn't you tell your own brother?" Jack questions. 

"I... I really wanted him to know," Arthur sighs, holding his head in his hand for a brief moment. "Charles told me all about the ranch, about you lot all livin' there. I wanted to just show up one day, though I would have probably scared him to death," Arthur chuckles.  
"I just couldn't. I couldn't risk it. I knew that if John knew, the rest of them would know. Charles is all the way up in Canada where no one from his past is around him. John, the idiot that he is, decided to make a home right in the middle of that mess," Arthur smiles at Johns mistake. "I just couldn't risk it." 

"Pa... he erm... he," Jack stutters.

"I know, son. I know about all that happened. I know about that damn Bureau using him like a pawn to do their dirty work, then stabbin' him in the back as soon as they got the chance. Reminds me of a rat I used to know." Arthur sighs, his voice shaking slightly. "I'm real sorry. I've spent... so long playing out every possible outcome in my head. Men like us, like your father and I, we don't get to live a good life," Arthur shakes his head. "But you... you been keepin' outta trouble, ain'tcha?"

"I, erm..." Jack pauses. Arthur gives him a look. "I ain't done nothing too bad. I avenged my fathers death, I killed Agent Ross," Jack declares. 

"I would have done the same. John would have done the same. How long ago was this?" 

"About a year now."

"Your past ain't caught up with you, yet?" 

"No. I was real careful, didn't give my name out to no one. No one was around when I did it." 

"I'll take your word for it, kid. And that's it? You ain't done anything else?" Arthurs' voice is stern, looking over Jack for any signs of lies.

"I ain't done anything else... I'm a writer now, actually," Jack replies. 

"A writer? Hm," Arthur smiles. "I remember little you bein' so obsessed with comics and books. You once asked me to get you somethin' to read. I found you so many comics scattered all over my travels. Your face lit up everytime you saw me bringin' you one," Arthur smiles, staring off into the distance, remembering those times. "I thought about you a lot. I thought about everyone, but I always worried with you. I worried you'd fall into this mess, our mess, mine and your fathers. I'm glad to see you ain't. At least John did raise you right." 

"Thank you, Arthur," Jack reponds. "I still got them comics, you know. I remember ma' packing up to leave, back before... you know... and I remember almost cryin' over them. She was rushin', tryna keep quiet as she packed our bags. She told us we needed to pack light and said I couldn't bring em. I begged her. I remember sayin' 'but Uncle Arthur got me them' with tears in my eyes, so she gave in and let me keep 'em." 

Jack looks up to see Arthur smiling, looking happier than a dog whos been smothered in treats. 

"That's real nice to hear, Jack." Arthur has to hold back his tears. "Tell me more about you, tell me about this stuff you write. You're still at the ranch, I take it?" 

Jack rubs the back of his neck, a little flustered. "Yeah I'm still there. I write stories and stuff, like westerns and romances. I ain't had anythin' published yet." 

"Well, you better send me one when you do. I want the first copy," Arthur smiles. 

Jack thinks for a moment but his mouth moves faster than his brain, asking a question that he thought of the second he saw Arthurs letter. 

"You... you wanna come live with me? I know it's back in Blackwater, but things are different now. They think you're dead... and the ranch isn't near town. I doubt anyones gonna recognise you, since it's been so long." 

"Jack..." Arthur pauses. He exhales, smiling. "Jack, I'd love to." 

Jack wants to jump to his feet and do a little dance. He stays sat, grinning like an idiot, his uncle grinning back. 

Jack spends a few days at the cabin, helping Arthur pack and sell. They purchase a small wagon, carrying Arthurs few belongings on it and begin their journey together, back to the east.  
Jack and Arthur are in no rush, stopping often to rest. Arthur doesn't shut up for the entire journey, telling Jack every story he can think of. Most of them involve John, and Arthur often cuts himself off as he see's something on the journey that reminds him of another story.  
They soon approach Mcfarland Ranch. Arthur tells him a story on how him and John once considered robbing the place but quickly changed their minds as they noticed how well guarded it was. Jack's more than thankful that they didnt.

Arthur is introduced to Bonnie, trusting that she'll keep his identiy a secret. She does, of course. She doesn't have a single bad bone in her body.  
Jack tries to pay Bonnie for taking care of the ranch but Bonnie rejects it, saying she'll just nag him for a favour whenever she needs one next. They say their goodbyes and move up to Blackwater.

Arthur seems a little skeptical as they approach but Jack reassures him that no ones going to recognise him. "Especially now you're old 'n' grey," Jack jokes. Arthur almost pushed him out of the wagon for that one.

They approach Beechers Hope. Arthurs starstuck, he's in tears. His lip shakes, in disbelief that John built all this.  
"I'm so proud, I wish I could have told him," Arthur sighs. Jack tells him that he can, to a degree. 

They dismount the wagon and before they can unload, Jack leads Arthur over to three graves. Arthurs bawling at this point, Jack also tearing up.  
"I'm sorry this is how you had to see him again," Jack tells him. Arthur tells him it's okay. He sits a while, looking over Johns grave, then Abigails and Uncles. Jack tells him he'll give him some time, heading back over to the wagon to unload.

Arthur spends the rest of the afternoon in the same spot. The suns hot on his back but he barely even notices it.  
Jack peers out the window every so often, checking on Arthur. He watches Arthur talking to the graves, mainly to Johns. Jack catches himself tearing up every time he checks on Arthur. These past few weeks have been a wild ride for the both of them. 

It's evening when Arthur comes into the house. His eyes are red but the tears are gone. Arthur spends a lot of time looking around whilst Jack makes them dinner.  
Jacks attention is drawn away from his cooking as he hears Arthur laughing his ass off. He turns to see Arthur holding the taxidermy squirrel of John, his eyes filled with tears once again.  
"Looks just like him!" Arthur says through laughter.  
Jack tells him how John got it, along with how Abigail reacted when John first brought John Jr. home. Arthur places him back on the mantlepiece, alongside Arthurs stag statue that Jack had placed there.

It takes a while for Arthur to adjust, feeling Johns memories all over the ranch. At first, Arthur wants to build his own little cabin on the land, not wanting to intrude on the family house. Jack urges him to move in. "It's what pa would have wanted."  
The two spend the rest of their lives side by side. Arthur gets to enjoy his final days seeing Jack grow, becoming less of a gunslinger and more of a writer. Arthur buys his first copy of his first book. 'Red Dead by J. Marston.'  
He proudly displays it in his room, formerly John and Abigails room. The two enjoy each others company, often doing their own thing, knowing they had each other.

Arthur spends every night talking to Johns grave, giving him brief overviews on how Jacks growing. Johns listening from beyond the grave, thankful that he's still alive and protecting his son. 

John's ready to greet Arthur at the gates of heaven when the time comes.


End file.
